


Tears of Saint Lawrence

by Kuruccha



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5396579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuruccha/pseuds/Kuruccha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So naïve, she tells herself; he’s not the first, he’s not different from the many others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears of Saint Lawrence

**Author's Note:**

> Truth is: I really wrote a lot on these two, but I'm both too busy and too lazy to translate all of them. I really liked this short story, though, so I gave it a try.  
> The prompt it took form from was [Tears of Saint Lawrence](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perseids). I like messing things around. :)

 

She kisses him for the first time – momentum, impulse, and she’s nervous as he stands still and stares – and it’s like her brain is sucked in a funnel and and then spat, slow, as slow as her brain unfogging.

She has just a second to ask herself which damned idea just jumped to her mind, but she shelves her thoughts: that’s not the time, not the right time, not now nor never. Her brain decompresses until it’s back to normal, growing together with the flush on her cheeks.

_So naïve_ , she tells herself; _he’s not the first, he’s not different from the many others_. It feels like he is, though.

 

The moment she parts her lips from his – and Spike’s hand settles lightly on her back and almost makes her sigh of relief, even though up to that moment she was sure nothing else was important but herself – she keeps her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to watch him, she doesn’t want to see him; her stomach just tells her to kiss him again and not give a damn to all the rest.

She has learned how impulses bring troubles and nothing more.

She doesn’t care.

 

So she kisses him once more – and Spike kisses her as well, this time – and in her shut eyes, under her eyelids, there’s a million of little bright spots. They fall in the dark like they were stars, shimmering stars crashing against the atmosphere of the old Earth; and it’s silly because they’re there, in that very moment and not years and years away in the past, recorded on Betamax like all of those memories she won’t get back.

_Falling stars, tsk. Just foolish fantasies for romantic dramas._

She never liked those kind of movies, and she never will, but she doesn’t give a damn as she kisses him again.


End file.
